Now.
They barely make it to the sidewalk before Gianna presses Bridgette up against the nearest streetlight, a half-laughing, half-breathless mess of hands and heat. The rideshare pulls away a little too fast, the driver definitely needing a minute to compose himself.
Bridgette tilts her head back against the cold metal, eyes dark and knowing behind the smudge of Gianna's lipstick. Deep blue, full of stars--that's how Gianna always thinks of them, but right now? Right now, they're focused entirely on her.
"Could've waited till we got inside," Bridgette murmurs, but there's no actual reprimand in it--just amusement, just that slight, satisfied smirk that means she knew this was coming.
"Could've," Gianna agrees, lips dragging down the line of Bridgette's throat, hands already teasing at the edge of her coat, letting fingers slip beneath to the warmth of skin. "Didn't want to."
Bridgette makes a sound, something small and pleased, and when she lifts her leg just slightly, letting Gianna press between her thighs, it's over.
"Upstairs," Bridgette says, voice threaded with something sharper now, fingers curling into Gianna's belt loops like a command. "Now."
Gianna grins against her jaw. "Bossy."
Bridgette lifts a brow. "Who do you think I married?"
And fuck, that shouldn't be hot, but it is, and now Gianna really can't wait till they're upstairs.
Earlier
Gianna leans back in her chair, nursing the last of her drink, letting the rim of the glass linger against her lips as she watches Bridgette work.
Not in the calculation-heavy, problem-solving, solving-the-universe sense--though, yeah, that too--but in the way she owns a conversation without even trying.
It's a funny thing, watching a woman who can plot the gravitational dance of entire star systems command a table full of people who probably had that exact same talent but still fell into orbit around her.
"Close binaries," Bridgette is saying, hand gesturing smoothly, like she's plucking the very stars out of the sky, arranging them on the table for inspection. "You see it in spectroscopic shifts, mostly--Doppler effects giving us those characteristic red-blue wobbles."
Gianna watches the woman across from her nod along, eager, leaning in like she's getting personal access to some scientific revelation when really? Bridgette's just a little drunk, a little warm, letting the natural flow of her brilliance spill out like it's nothing.
God, she's hot when she does that.
Not that Gianna's really listening. She doesn't need to. She's seen Bridgette like this before, held the weight of that same intensity in an entirely different setting--pressed against her, breathing against her skin, explaining something entirely different in the dark.
She licks her lips, shifts in her seat.
"Computer modeling lets us simulate the entire system," Bridgette continues, eyes sparking, voice smooth but just a touch looser than usual. She's definitely tipsy. Gianna can see it in the way her fingers trace patterns on the tabletop, the way she bites her lip mid-thought, the way she keeps glancing at Gianna, like she knows exactly where this night is going to end.
Gianna smirks, lazily draping an arm over the back of her chair, catching Bridgette's gaze and lifting a brow.
"Multiple bodies, moving in tandem?" she murmurs, just loud enough for Bridgette to hear. "Hot."
Bridgette barely misses a beat. Barely. But Gianna catches the slight catch in her breath, the briefest flicker of something darker, deeper, behind her eyes.
Gianna spots her first. College-aged, blonde, make up perfect for night and this lighting. She's just now figured it out.
Gianna barely looks away from the girl, watching the way she fidgets with the stem of her glass, the way her eyes dart around the room like she's searching for permission, reassurance, a lifeline.
Bridgette follows Gianna's gaze and hums, taking a slow sip of her drink. Yeah. She sees it, too.
"She's cute," Bridgette says, not unkindly.
"She's panicking," Gianna corrects, tilting her head slightly, watching the way the girl's hand clenches in her lap, the way she keeps checking her reflection in the bar mirror like she's trying to confirm something about herself that still doesn't quite feel real.
Then, just as Gianna predicted, the girl exhales a sharp breath, as if the weight of the thought is hitting her all at once, and mutters, "Oh my God, I like girls."
Gianna smirks, turning back to Bridgette, mimicking the words in a stage whisper. "Oh shit, I like girls."
Bridgette gives her a look.
"Don't be mean," she chides, nudging Gianna's knee under the table. "You had that moment, too."
"No, I didn't."
Bridgette sighs, exasperated. "You are not some kind of cosmic anomaly, Gianna."
"Sure I am," Gianna says, grinning as she lazily twirls the ice in her glass. "I came pre-installed with Sapphic tendencies. No updates required."
Bridgette rolls her eyes, but there's fondness there, buried under the academic's eternal need for precision.
"You never had even a second of doubt?"
"Nope." Gianna pops the p and leans in, voice dropping just for Bridgette. "You ever have a moment of realization about liking oxygen?"
Bridgette levels her with a look, lips quirking. "That's not how it works."
"Worked for me."
Bridgette shakes her head, but Gianna catches the way she fights back a smile, the way her gaze lingers just a little too long.
At the bar, the blonde finally steadies herself, exhales, and straightens her shoulders--bracing herself to do something about the fact that she now knows.
Gianna watches, eyes glinting with amusement, then lifts her drink.
"Welcome to the club, sweetheart."
Gianna watches as the blonde hesitates--just for a second, just long enough for doubt to flicker across her face--before she takes the redhead's hand. There's something electric in the way her fingers close around it, something fragile but determined.
The redhead doesn't pull, doesn't rush her, just smiles, patient and sure, letting the blonde choose to follow. And when she does--when she slides off the barstool and lets herself be led toward the dance floor--Gianna exhales, tilting her head as she watches.
"That's so sweet."
Bridgette side-eyes her. "You were making fun of her thirty seconds ago."
"Yeah, but now she's having a moment." Gianna leans back in her chair, gaze flicking between the two of them weaving through the crowd. "It's cute. She's gonna remember this forever."
Bridgette hums, watching the way the blonde's shoulders stiffen, then slowly relax as the redhead murmurs something to her, something that makes her laugh, something that lets her breathe.
Gianna nudges Bridgette's knee under the table, eyes warm with mischief. "Was it like that for you?"
Bridgette huffs a laugh, shaking her head. "No. I was an idiot."
"Obviously." Gianna grins. "But was there a redhead involved?"
Bridgette lifts her drink to hide her smirk. "No comment."
